[Today: Existentialism in rock...]
Without dipping too far into the philosophical soup, let’s just say that existentialism has come to be popularly understood as something that is quite the opposite of what it once meant. For 19th century philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, existentialism meant that in spite of many external and internal obstacles, life (existence!) should be lived passionately. Albert Camus’ 1942 novel The Stranger has come to be closely identified with this strain of philosophy, and as such, has helped to shape popular opinion about what existentialism means (and because Camus had intellectual cache, helped make it a breezy, easy concept to drop at dinner parties). The main character of the book is a strange fellow named Meursault, who can’t be concerned with petty moralities or bigger questions like the existence of God. For him, the death of his mother or killing a man on a beach are the same as so many grains of sand, and his tale is told in a chilling first person narrative that attempts to rationally negate the very tenets of life as we know it. It’s filled with cheery quotes like “Since we’re all going to die, it’s obvious that when and how don’t matter.”
Camus didn’t consider himself an existentialist, and with good reason – his first novel was basically an inversion of Kierkegaard’s self-determined man. If it’s all up to me, Camus seemed to say, then I choose not to believe in anything. As Meursault sits in jail and denies the world, it’s easy to wonder if he’s crazy for not caring about his place in the universe, or if you’re nuts for caring about the same. At any rate, this book became the jumping off point for The Cure’s famously banned song ‘Killing An Arab’. Camus’ bleak, nihilistic world view synced up beautifully with the glass-half-empty, woe-is-me swoon of Goth. But it took Robert Smith to tie the two together with a song that flatly recounts gunning down a man on a beach, looking into his eyes, and… not caring a lick. This song has echoes of Johnny Cash’s ‘Folsom Prison Blues’, but where Johnny was at least interested in watching his victim die, Robert Smith can’t even stir up a little blood lust. This is something even less than murder for murder’s sake, and if the song is a fairly inelegant hash of what The Stranger is actually about, it certainly conveys the blank stare behind that smoking pistol.
Leave it to Iggy Pop to go deeper than Camus. With his 1977 song ‘The Passenger’, Mr. Osterberg created the perfect rock vehicle (pun intended) for Camus’ brand of existentialism. For Iggy, life is a journey by car, and he’s determined to enjoy the ride. If his hand isn’t on the wheel, it only means he’s more free to take in the views of the city and the ocean that flash by his window. See the stars come out at night – they are us and we are nothing…
Listen: The Passenger [Iggy Pop]
Listen: Killing An Arab [The Cure]
